InsaneJournal

RP: I'm going to have a crisis all over you. Again.
Who: Dean Thomas and Susan Bones
What: Dean has a bit of a wobble about how his birthday started
Where: Various, mostly Susan's house
When: Monday 24th August, before the party
Rating: NSFW - Swearing




When Seamus had finally left Dean's flat he'd spent a solid five minutes or more staring at his bedroom doorway with unseeing eyes. He couldn't quite process all of what had happened that morning. He'd gone to sleep exhausted by incredibly happy and woken up groping Seamus, and not at all in the way it had seemed in his little fantasy. Thinking about that still made him feel sick. And then there'd been the panic attack and the crying and the stupidly thoughtful gifts.

Nope. Time to try and sleep some more. He knew he'd not had enough yet. After shifting all his gifts safely out of the way and off the bed (where he wouldn't step on them when he got up) he pulled the duvet back over his head with a groan and burrowed into his pillows.

Half an hour of trying to shut his rapidly cycling brain up later he groaned in frustration and finally got out of bed and into the shower. For a while he just stood there and let the water wash over him. He thought maybe he could wash away the sense of mortification, but it wasn't working. At least his shower didn't work on a tank system so it continued to be warm even when he decided that instead of just standing there he should scrub himself very clean. Until his skin tingled and he shut off the shower in frustration at not really feeling better.

He was half way through checking he had everything in order to go to the studio when he realised that the first thing he'd see would be the painting that he'd finished. The painting that he'd finished. The painting that had inadvertently made him forget his birthday and then ... do what he did. He started yanking things back out of his bag that he wouldn't need and stomped into his bedroom. The place to go in a time like this was... well usually it would be to see Seamus but since that was pretty much the last place he wanted to go right now it would be Susan's house. She would be at work but there would be plenty of distractions there.

He shoved his swimming trunks and workout gear into his bag, annoyed to find it filling rapidly and unable to fit in his trainers. He swore, kicked off his boots and tied his trainers on tight. Tighter than he should have done really.

He left his flat looking like a whirlwind had hit it and apparated to Susan's. First he swam for a while, but couldn't settle to it like he usually did. It wasn't relaxing, it was just endlessly frustrating and repetitive and he gave up, dried off without showering and stuck on his workout gear before stomping over to the main house and down to the gym. He'd used it a couple of times but not very often. He closed the door so that Shadow probably couldn't get in (assuming Susan hadn't taken her to work) and got on the treadmill and began to run. He didn't run all that often but it was a good mindless activity. He ran until his legs began to protest and stepped off with a groan.

He still felt like an idiot. He smacked his head on the treadmill a couple of times, decided that was incredibly stupid and walked over to the punching bag instead. He wasn't used to this, but frankly it fitted his slightly self-destructive mood so he started punching without bothering to cover his hands. Several times he let out yells of frustration and pain. He didn't realise that the anticipated pattering of dog paws had appeared outside the room until he also realised that he was crying again. Tears of frustration and pain this time instead of joy. The patter turned to snuffling and slight scratching at the door and he examined his slightly swollen knuckles that hadn't quite opened up, but were still starting to be decidedly painful and he slumped against the nearest wall, sliding down it. Thankfully he'd left his wand nearby and he flicked it to open the doors. Shadow immediately came over and inserted herself into the bent vee of his legs with a persistent wriggle. He curled around her petting her and crying for a long time. His face was a mess and every now and then he would mutter 'I'm so fucking stupid', or variations on that theme. Shadow mostly responded by licking his face.

Eventually the tears stopped, although not before Shadow had developed a bit of a wet patch. He groaned softly and stroked her in thanks. "C'mon, I should eat. One less reason for your Mum to yell at me later," he said.

He dragged himself up to the kitchen, complete with dog who was living up to her name. She was clearly concerned, which made him feel a bit better. He made himself a massive sandwich, looked at the time and said 'fuck it' and curled up in the family room with it and a rather large glass of Gin and lemonade. He would have had tonic but he wasn't the biggest fan, and Susan's preferred whiskey in it right now sounded like a terrible idea. He didn't even particularly like gin that much, it was just what felt right and was easy enough to grab.

He brought both bottles with him and ate his sandwich, drank his drink and occasionally stroked Shadow, who had followed him and flopped on his feet when he stretched out on the sofa. After finishing his sandwich he refilled his empty glass and spelled the sound system into life to dispel the quiet. Eventually, around half way down the rather stiffly mixed second glass he drifted off to sleep. Dried sweat, dog-licked tears and all.